Ma'at
by Kerowyn
Summary: The last battle between our heroes and the Dark Lord...and what comes after. Hermione’s memory is a bit shaky after five years of amnesia, Draco has broken out of prison, and Ron has her back again. And that’s just the start…
1. Prologue

This is my first little HP fic. This started off as a nagging little idea in my brain that just begged to be written down. This is extremely angsty. It is also very short. I have an idea to develop this into a larger story, but only if I get some reviews along those lines. (hint, hint)  
  
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Prolouge  
  
"Don't do it Hermione!" Harry shouted.  
  
"Fight it!" Ron added.  
  
~Kill them. Kill them and then yourself and it will all be over.~  
  
Too many voices. Too many thoughts trying to crowd their way into her head. She couldn't kill them. Harry and Ron were the best friends she had ever had. One was something more than a friend. Why was she telling herself to kill them?  
  
~Kill them!~  
  
That wasn't her. That was Lord Voldemort. The haze of the Imperius Curse began to lift. She stared at the dagger in her hand, trying to remember how it got there. It glittered in the flickering torchlight. Voldemort was trying to force her to kill her friends. White-hot anger surged through her clearing away more of the haze, but not enough. She couldn't quite break his spell.  
  
"Fight it!"  
  
"Listen Hermione, you can fight him!"  
  
"KILL THEM!" Voldemort screamed, growing angry.  
  
She gripped the knife tighter and closed her eyes. Out of all the voices fighting in her head, one was missing. Her own cool, confident, logical, capable brain. It would know what to do. She searched for that voice. She heard it faintly over the cacophony in her head. It had a solution. She would do what Voldemort wanted, just not in the order he had suggested.  
  
With a decision made, the inner conflict stilled. Her muscles relaxed, she flipped the knife into a good stabbing grip. Her eyes opened, a slight smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. Voldemort began to laugh, thinking he'd won. Harry and Ron stared in horrified disbelief.   
  
It took only three steps to close the distance between her and them.   
  
"Hermione…" Ron pleaded desperately "…you can fight him."   
  
"I'm sorry." She whispered. She raised the knife high… and plunged it into herself.  
  
"NOOO!!!" Three male voices yelled out, one filled with anger, the others with terrible sadness and loss. She sank to the floor, heedless of the rest of the world. It was over. She had made her choice, and stuck by her friends. And as a finishing touch, she had just saved the world.  
  
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You want me to resurrect Hermione from the dead? Or do you like the idea of heroic martyrdom? It'll cost three seconds of your time in that little review button there. ;)  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	2. You're Dead!

Alrighty, boys and girls. Since I got such a positive response to my *very* short story, I have decided to expand it a bit. I tend to do a very schizophrenic job of editing, so strange grammer may pop out at you from time to time. Please let me know, as this bugs me a lot when I'm reading a fic.  
A question for all of you: does anyone know whether or not Hermione has any siblings?   
  
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Chapter One  
You're Dead!  
  
NO!  
  
Hermione sat bolt upright in bed, drenched with sweat from the nightmare. It took a few seconds for her brain to accept that she was not dead and that she had not just stabbed herself. Well almost. She had a scar to prove the part about the knife.  
  
It was three in the morning and all was quiet. The last wild campus party had broken up, its participants too tired or too drunk to continue. The first over-achiever had yet to rise for a pre-dawn trek to the library. Hermione stumbled into the bathroom and splashed some water over her face. Terrifying as the dream had been, the details were becoming blurred, and soon all that would be left was the vague feeling that she'd forgotten something important.   
  
"Alright, Anne?" A sleepy voice from her dorm room called. Hermione realized the voice was talking to her.  
  
"Yes." She called back. There was an inarticulate mumble as her roommate Lisa drifted back to sleep. After a moment, staring in the mirror, Hermione went back to bed. But not back to sleep.  
  
The dream was a haunting reminder of her former life; the life she couldn't remember. That life had ended with her being stabbed, and this one had begun with her waking in a hospital room without a single memory of who she had been. All she had left was a two-inch scar across her stomach and the dream.   
  
She had acquired the name Anne from the staff of St. Anne's Hospital. For lack of anything better to do with her, social services had placed her in a foster home. That lasted about two months, all the time Hermione had needed to strike out on her own. She never told anyone that her name was Hermione, or that the first seventeen years of her life were effectively blank. Everyone thought that she was Anne Hathaway, a normal young woman with a normal life.  
  
Hermione stared at the ceiling, unable to get back to sleep because she was staring at the ceiling. Once again, the feeling that she was forgetting something extremely important came over her. She thought hard but was unable to think of anything which she had forgotten.   
  
It was now four in the morning, the darkest part of the night. Giving up on sleep, Hermione dressed silently and left the dorm room. With nothing else to do, she did something few people would have considered. She went to work.  
  
Hermione worked as an undercover detective for Scotland Yard. She didn't actually work at Scotland Yard, but people were more impressed when she said that. She worked at the local station house, which was an hour's walk from campus. She knew this because she had walked before. It was almost a ritual now. Have The Dream, walk to work. Once some petty thug had tried to mug her, he had ended up with a broken arm and the maximum sentence for assaulting a police officer.  
  
"Hey, Apodaca!" Isabella Apodaca turned at the sound of her name.   
  
"Hey Marty, how was your night?" She addressed the desk sergeant.  
  
"She's here again." He said darkly and Isabella sighed. Anne's midnight excursions were well known at the station house, though the reason wasn't.   
  
Isabella went downstairs to the gym, which was rather shoddy by today's standards. Just a set of weights, punching bag, treadmill and a stationary bike. Hermione was at her usual spot, beating the holy crap out of the punching bag. She had just made brown belt in kick-boxing, one level below black belt. Or maybe that was red belt.   
  
"That's the second new bag we've bought since you came here." Isabella pointed out. Hermione paused.  
  
"Not my fault they won't pay for a decent one." She pointed out.   
  
Isabella considered asking her partner just what made her trek down to the gym at all hours of the night, then decided against it. The answer always remained the same.   
  
"C'mon, it's time to go to work."  
  
  
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Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	3. You're Alive!

i'm baack! woo-hoo! thanks to all who review.  
  
DISCLAIMER! I do not own Hermione, nor do I own Harry or Ron. Which is very sad, because if I did I'd be flurking rich. All belong to the mighty JK. Hopefully she doesn't mind be borrowing them for a little bit. And now, one with the show.  
  
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Chapter Two  
You're Alive!  
  
Harry Potter, Quidditch Star and All-England Seeker, sat in front of the London pub, sipping a drink and watching the Muggles pass by. Ron was late, of course. There was always some last bit of business to be taken care of, and it was always just as Ron was headed out the door.   
  
"Hey Harry." Ron said, collapsing into the chair across from Harry. "Crabbe again. Ever since the Americans caught Malfoy it's been either him or Goyle working magic in front of the muggles."   
  
Harry snickered. Ron glared at him "What's so funny?"  
  
"Last week you were complaining about how there was nothing to do in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."   
  
"Whenever I have a busy day, someone else has a rotten day. I suppose boredom is a good sign. How are things in the Quidditch world?"  
  
"Wood's started to plan his strategy for the World Cup next year." Harry sighed melodramatically. The old Gryffindor captain had been hired as a coach for the England Quidditch team after a Bludger knocked him out of the air permanently. "So much for the off-season."  
  
The two old friends ate lunch and talked of times past. It grew so late that the girl who was serving their table asked if they intended to eat dinner too. It was Harry's turn to pay, so he left a big tip in compensation for monopolizing the table all afternoon.  
  
"Oh well, once more into the fray." Ron sighed. The Ministry of Magic had offices right around the corner in Whitehall. Ron paused in the middle of story about old Mundungus Fletcher and some exploding slugs.   
  
"What?" Harry asked, as Ron scanned the afternoon crowd.  
  
"I dunno. I saw something." Ron frowned. He let his eyes roam over the muggles searching for something out of place. Harry glanced around also. They both saw her at the same time.  
  
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Work for Hermione during the past few weeks had involved a car theft ring operating out of Edinburgh. The ring had just recently expanded its operations to include London. Hermione was hoping to win the trust of the syndicate by boosting cars for them. Not really as simple as that, but things were going well.  
  
Hermione sighed and looked at her watch. She was glad it was sunny out today, so she had an excuse to wear sunglasses. Being undercover was just easier when you were wearing sunglasses. A bus pulled up to the curb. The crowd shifted around her as people on the bus traded places with people on the street. One of the newly disembarked came and stood next to Hermione. Or to be more precise, he stood next to Hermione's groceries.   
  
"Is this unusual weather in London?" He asked conversationally, in an absolutely horrendous fake American accent.   
  
"Not as unusual as the movies would have you believe." Hermione replied. The man nodded. When the next bus arrived a minute later, the man moved to board it, accidentally knocking over her bag of groceries. He didn't bend down to help her; that would have been far too obvious. He simply got on his bus while other, more helpful citizens helped her gather her things. No one would notice the extra package dropped by the man as he waited for the bus.  
  
Hermione sat back, relieved. The transfer had gone off without a hitch. The next bus would be the one to take her to the station, where the contact's information would be processed by those with a higher security clearance than hers.   
  
She noticed out of the corner of her eye, two men pushing through the crowd. She didn't pay much attention, since people were always rushing to catch their bus, but there was no bus at the curb.   
  
There was something familiar about the men. She scanned her mental rolodex for their pictures but came up blank. The red head called out. "Hermione!"  
  
Hermione froze. No one knew her by that name. That name was conjured out of her dream because it was more interesting than Anne. Hermione stood and snatched up the paper bag. The crowd on the sidewalk was thick, so Hermione dove into it, hoping to lose these two strangers who knew her.  
  
It was actually rather easy to move quickly through the crush of people, as long as you don't care about stepping on a few feet. There was an Underground station not far away and Hermione hurtled down the steps as fast as possible without breaking her neck. She stepped to one side at the base of the stairs and slid down to the floor, shaking and terrified.   
  
It was terribly disconcerting to have three-quarters of your life a blank slate, so Hermione tried to forget that she had forgotten. She felt as if she'd been hit with the proverbial anvil. Whatever had happened to her five years ago was so horrible and sad that she had blanked out her entire existence. Hermione didn't feel terribly eager to find out just what it was.  
  
  
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Mystic Eyes: Romance will be coming much later. Promise.   
  
I also promise to update on a semi-regular basis.  
  
Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	4. She's Alive?

two chapters! look at me and my bad self! also i have come to dislike the title. it will probably change once i think up a better one.  
  
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Chapter Three  
She's Alive?  
  
Ron stared as Hermione, or a woman who looked very much like Hermione, disappeared as quickly as if she'd Disapperated.   
  
"Did you see that?" He gasped.   
  
"Hermione." Harry agreed, then shook himself. "That's not possible. We saw…"  
  
"What if she didn't? My God, she survived." Ron stared at the spot where the woman had vanished.  
  
"We saw what happened."  
  
"We never found her …" He choked on the final word.  
  
"Ron. Hermione's dead." Harry said flatly, hating himself for having to say it. Five years had done little to numb the pain.   
  
"You saw how she reacted!"  
  
"Get a hold of yourself!" Harry suddenly realized that they were attracting the stares of passing muggles. He grabbed his friend's arm and pulled him away.  
  
Harry wanted to believe Hermione was alive. She had meant the world to both Ron and Harry, neither had known just how much until she was gone. But she was still dead. All the wishes in the world couldn't bring her back.   
  
"Ron she's dead. It was just some woman."  
  
"Just some woman who ran from the sound of Hermione's name."  
  
Harry couldn't think of a response to that.  
  
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Finally Hermione realized that she couldn't sit next to the stairs forever. She collected herself enough to catch a train back to the station house. She walked in a daze until someone grabbed her by the shoulder.  
  
"Hey, Hathaway!" It was Isabella. "You alright? You look like you're about a thousand miles away." Hermione muttered something and kept going. Isabella didn't follow her down to the gym. Talking to Anne when she was like this was like talking to a wall.   
  
Hermione came to herself again in the locker room. The comforting smells of chalk and clean sweat calmed her, allowed her to think logically again. With her disguise, those men on the street must have mistaken her for someone else.  
  
~Someone named Hermione?~   
  
~Quiet.~ The two inner voices argued with each other for a bit, until Hermione silenced them both by going upstairs to report to the captain. Mysterious men or no, she had a job to do.  
  
  
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Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	5. Are You Alive?

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Chapter Four  
Are You Alive?  
  
Three nights later, Hermione had managed to forget the incident of the two men on the street by burying herself in work. She paced the platform in Edinburgh, waiting for the train back to London. She shivered, partly from the cold air, partly from nervous anticipation.   
  
In the purse slung over her shoulder she carried a terribly incriminating message between the two gang leaders she was trying to take down. During the journey she would switch the message with an identical one, taking the original as evidence. It was a fairly simple operation on the surface, with any number of things that could go wrong. Hermione sighed as she boarded the train.   
  
Her nerves proved to be unjustified, as she made the swap without a single problem. When the train arrived at Paddington Station, the original letter was safely on its way to Scotland Yard, while she delivered the copy to the henchman waiting on the platform.  
  
She stepped off the train and hesitated for a second. Instead of the lackey she had been expecting, the Boss stood at the meeting place, flanked by two henchmen, reading a newspaper.  
  
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Harry slung his broomstick over his shoulder and stepped off the train at Platform 5 at Paddington Station. The Firebolt was hidden inside a guitar case to keep the muggles from getting suspicious. He had to pay a visit to Diagon Alley while he was in London and get the Braking Charm updated. Harry was so preoccupied about Quidditch, that he almost didn't see her standing there.   
  
He stopped and stared. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision, but the woman was still standing there. There was no mistaking her. Hermione had just gotten off a train at the neighboring platform.   
  
He dashed through the crowd without taking his eyes off her. He felt that if he looked away she would vanish like a ghost. She brushed back her unruly hair the way Hermione always did when she made up her mind. She had her bag slung across her shoulder and was about to walk off.  
  
"Hermione, wait!"   
  
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Hermione jumped, badly startled. She whirled around to stare at this man who had called her name. He pushed his way past the last commuter.  
  
"God, Hermione." He grabbed her by the elbow, as if to assure himself that she was really there.   
  
"Who-who are you?" She managed to choke out. Now it was his turn to be startled.  
  
"You- you don't remember?" He said faintly. "Harry. Harry Potter. We went to Hogwarts together. Remember, Hermione?"   
  
"I…" The black hair, glasses, green eyes. She did remember something. A flash of this man sitting at a table next her. There was a pot of something boiling over a fire. They were working on it. Then the memory was gone. As she tried to see it more clearly, but it slipped away, back into the mists of her mind.   
  
"No." Hermione tried to say it firmly, but her voice wouldn't obey. Her next words quavered. "My name is Anne Hathaway." Harry stood stunned, unable to do more than stare at her quickly retreating back.   
  
In her haste, Hermione rushed past her intended contact, much to his dismay. The contact followed her out of the station, only to find her slumped in the lee of a mailbox.   
  
"What was that all about, dear Annika?" The Boss liked to affect a Russian accent, despite the fact he was from Chelsea. Hermione looked up sharply then scrambled to her feet.  
  
"Uh, it was just-just…" Hermione shifted her weight and looked embarrassed; and the two henchmen glared at her while she tried to think of a plausible excuse. "Just my loser ex-boyfriend," she said finally, feeling slightly guilty for calling this Harry person a loser. "He can't take a hint." She shrugged her shoulders in what she hoped was a casual manner.   
  
The Boss seemed satisfied with her explanation. "I believe you have a letter for me."  
  
  
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Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	6. Boom

cheater chapter this time. c'est la vive. or something like that. i still don't like this title, suggestions would be welcome.  
  
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Chapter Five  
Boom  
  
"You certainly took your time Goyle."  
  
The large man with a striking resemblance to a rock grunted something, but his boss had already stopped listening.   
  
"I've spent too much time away from London. I believe it's time to remind my old friends of my existence." Malfoy stopped to sneer at one guard, frozen by a spell. "It's been so long since I did anything interesting."  
  
Malfoy gazed up at the clear night sky outside the American equivalent of Azkaban. It was just an island off the coast of Seattle, not even a single dementor.   
  
"Your wand."  
  
"Ah yes. Thank you Goyle. Let us see if I remember the spell." Malfoy made a great show of pretending to recall the spell, tapping his wand thoughtfully against his chin. He had planned this day ever since those damned Americans had caught up with him.   
  
"Ah, yes. INCENDIO!" The prison walls, which to muggle eyes looked like pine forest, went up in a burst of smoke and flame. The angry yells of the guards mingled with the roar of the fire and between one moment and the next, Malfoy and Goyle disappeared  
  
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Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	7. When It Hits The Fan

still don't like this title. it'll change sometime over the weekend, i'm just not sure to what.  
  
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Chapter Six  
When It Hits The Fan  
  
"Ron!" The banging on the door shook Ron out of vague dreams about Hermione and Quidditch.   
  
"Ron! Wake up! I saw her!" There could only be one Her. Ron rolled out of bed and was halfway to the apartment door before his brain finished processing the thought.  
  
"Where?" Ron managed to ask after he let Harry into the apartment. Harry open his mouth to reply, but all that came out was a curse.   
  
"Damn cat!" The ginger cat hissed back at him and moved out of the way. "Stupid Crookshanks." Harry muttered.  
  
"Harry! Where did you see her?"   
  
"The train station."  
  
"What were you doing at a train station?"  
  
"Apperating everywhere all the time gets boring. That's not the point. I saw her. She was getting off the train." The normality of the sentence struck Harry as odd. An old friend, long dead, appearing at train stations and bus depots.  
  
"How?" Ron managed to say weakly.  
  
"With my eyes. She said her name was Anne."  
  
"Anne?" How could Hermione be anyone other that Hermione?  
  
"I don't think she remembers anything. But there was this look in her eyes when I said her name. I think she remembers but she doesn't know that she remembers."  
  
Ron sat for a bit to puzzle this out. "You mean she's got amnesia or something?" He asked incredulously.   
  
"Stranger things have happened." Harry had a point. Stranger things did seem to occur with alarming regularity.   
  
"But went back remember? We tried to find her. There was no one there." Ron felt horribly guilty. If Hermione was alive, then he had failed her when she needed him most.   
  
"Maybe the muggles found her." Harry shrugged. "If only we could jog her memory somehow."  
  
They sat silently in Ron's London apartment for some time, remembering the last time they had seen Hermione. It was not a pleasant night. Ron felt very angry. How could he have let Hermione down like that? He should have gone back. He should have...  
  
His thoughts were interrupted by a gentle tapping on the window. Ron looked up, surprised. The owl tapped again, slightly annoyed at being made to hover outside the window.  
  
Ron hurried over and opened the window. The owl settled on his windowsill, holding out a hastily scrawled note.   
  
"Oh, blimey." Ron growled at the note. He handed it to Harry.  
  
-Mr. Weasley,  
  
Word just came from the Americans. Draco Malfoy just escaped from their prison and made an almighty mess doing it. Fudge wants to know if we should be worried. He said to have the report ready by ten. Sorry.  
  
-Dennis  
  
"Are you coming?" Ron reappeared, wearing formal (if wrinkled) robes. "Dumbledore's bound to be there. He'll know what to do about Hermione."  
  
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Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	8. At The Office

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Chapter Seven  
  
At The Office  
  
It only took a moment for Ron and Harry to Apperate over to the Ministry. No one seemed to mind them popping out of thin air in the middle of the Magical Law Enforcement Dept. A young harried clerk hurried over.  
  
"Mr. Weasley. Sorry to wake you and all but Fudge is in an uproar. He's telling off the Americans right now…"  
  
Harry allowed his attention to drift while Ron and the clerk talked. He had only been in the Ministry twice before, and never in this room. It actually looked rather like a muggle police station, except for the people. Wizards and witches kept Apperating and Disapperating. A man with a horn sprouting out of his head was arguing with a man with three arms. The poor wizard trying to mediate the dispute kept getting hit in the head by the spare arm.  
  
"…Dumbledore's already arrived." The clerk finished. "He's waiting in Fudge's office." Harry tore his eyes away from the argument as the wizard narrowly avoided being gored and followed Ron up the stairs.   
  
Dumbledore was not the only one waiting in Ron's office. Cornelius Fudge had been Minister of Magic, until the fiasco with Voldemort. Fudge has 'resigned' his post and was put somewhere where he couldn't do any harm.   
  
"Ah Weasley. Good to see you here so quickly. Harry Potter! Delighted to see you again." Fudge shook their hands jovially. "I was just speaking to Dumbledore here about our unfortunate situation with that Draco Malfoy…"  
  
Harry gritted his teeth until Fudge stopped babbling and came to the point.   
  
"Well you see, we've decided that it's highly unlikely Malfoy will come back right away. We'll keep an eye out though; see if we can't succeed where the Americans failed. Cheerio." Fudge said brightly, and showed them the door. Ron refrained from slamming it shut behind him.  
  
"Bloody idiot, calls me in, this time of night…" Ron muttered under his breath. "Like Malfoy is just going to sit around waiting for us to catch him."  
  
"No, he is not." Ron looked up startled. Dumbledore had exited with them. "Fudge still hears only what he wants to hear. You must keep an eye out Mr. Weasley."   
  
Dumbledore turned down the hall as if to go. "Now I must get back to Hogwarts. Being the old man that I am, I need my rest…"  
  
"Uh, sir. We actually needed to talk to you about something." Harry said quickly. "It's about Hermione. She's alive."  
  
It was the one and only time Harry ever saw Dumbledore surprised.  
  
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Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	9. The Leaky Cauldron

wow, i finally got my lazy ass to post an update. i'd just likt to pause for a moment and send a shout out to all my wonderful reviewers. Lain (for being number 1), klover (for the encouragement), Twilight Fantasy, Amy Lee, christina, Wednesday Addams, Sara, Wolfstone, Al, Mystic Eyes (for the motivation), Cai, Suslin, lluna21, Eild, Jade (for the enthusiasm), delila-malfoy, kitty, and HouAreYouTOday (for reading both categories). phew! i think that's everybody. and now, on with the show.   
  
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Chapter Eight  
The Leaky Cauldron  
  
Hermione stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. It was amazing how quiet the room could be without another person in it. Lisa the Roommate was at a party with her boyfriend.   
  
She finally gave up any hope of sleep and went out to the kitchen for a cup of tea. She sat curled up by the window. It would have been nice if it had been raining, so she would have something to look at. Oh well.   
  
The tea, instead of lulling her to sleep, cleared the fog from her brain. Hermione really didn't want to go to sleep. The Dream was waiting. She could feel it lurking on the edges of her mind, waiting for her to drop her guard. The Dream had been waiting ever since Harry had spoken to her in the train station.   
  
Finally, she couldn't stand the inactivity anymore. She got dressed and shrugged on her black trench coat and went for a walk. It was well past midnight, the buzz of activity had subsided to a murmur.  
  
She walked a long time, without any goal or purpose, turning at random intersections and going down streets she had never seen before. Finally she found herself standing across the street from a small and rather dingy pub called the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione wasn't much of a pub person, but the weather had turned cooler and a fog was rising from the pavement.  
  
The pub was much larger than it looked from the outside, though just as dingy. Most of the people in here were looked as disreputable as the pub. Hermione made her way over to the bar and ordered a pint.   
  
She took a seat next to the roaring fire and watched the people passing through. Where were they all coming from? Dozens of people kept passing through the pub, but only a few stayed. Hermione considered following someone into the back to see what was back there when a nearby conversation caught her attention.  
  
"… and Harry Potter of course. I was a prefect at Hogwarts that year. There's an awful lot that the Daily Prophet never heard about." Hermione risked a glance at the speaker. He was a young man, slightly drunk, and surrounded by three other young men.   
  
"Like what Johnny?" One of them asked.  
  
"Like the fact that Hermione Granger was kidnapped inside Hogwarts itself." Hermione's grip on the mug tightened. Johnny's friends whispered in amazement.  
  
"It's true." Johnny confirmed, pleased at his success. "Last time anyone saw her was at dinner, then poof! (the word was accompanied by a gesture which splashed beer everywhere) she's gone! Harry Potter and Ron Weasley didn't look so great either, once they finally found them. 'Course defeating the Dark Lord and all, that's no easy task."  
  
"How'd they do it?" Another friend asked.   
  
"No one really knows, 'cept Dumbledore I'm sure. Ron and Harry weren't really interesting in talking. But this is what I heard…" Johnny lowered his voice. Hermione leaned forward to hear better.   
  
"The Dark Lord tried to do a spell. Human sacrifice." The men gasped. "It gets worse. He tried to make Granger do the killing. Guess he thought it would be funny. But she got him in the end. Killed herself first, rather than kill someone else. She saved the world by killing herself." The men muttered and shook their heads at such bravery.  
  
Hermione did her best to keep from running out the door. She didn't remember going to the door, she was just there. The door swung open before she could touch it. Hermione stared in disbelief at the two standing in front of her, a red-headed man and black woman, both of whom were vaguely familiar.   
  
"Hermione?" The woman managed to stammer. Hermione pushed past and ran down the street. She had heard enough of that name for one night.   
  
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Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	10. Before Dawn

short chapter. oh well. theoritically i will have time to write this weekend, maybe another chapter by monday?  
  
A/N HouAreYouToday - no one knows... (j/k ;) very soon :crosses fingers: )  
  
kitten- such volumnious praise! look, four-syllable word!   
  
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Chapter Nine  
  
Before Dawn  
  
"Ron? Are you here?" Fred Weasley poked his head into his little brother's cubicle. Ron and Harry were both there. Dumbledore had left for Hogwarts. They had been plotting how to find Hermione and get her memories back.  
  
"Fred, Angelina. What are you …?"   
  
"Ron, we saw Hermione." Angelina interrupted. Harry took his feet off the desk and stood up.  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Outside the Leaky Cauldron." Fred blushed as red as his hair, determined not to be embarrassed. "We were on a date."  
  
Harry Disapperated a second after Ron. Fred and Angelina came another second after that, and all three were standing outside the Leaky Cauldron.   
  
"Where was she?" Ron looked around, half hoping to see her standing on the corner.  
  
"She came out of the Leaky Cauldron. Took one look at us and ran like she was the one who saw a ghost." Fred waved vaguely down the street. Ron set off without another word. Harry turned to Fred.  
  
"Did she recognize you?"  
  
Fred shook his head. Angelina spoke. "Yeah kinda. She was looking at us like she was trying to remember where she remembered us from. Then Fred said her name and she took off. She looked a little freaked out."  
  
"Harry, what's going on? Hermione's …" Fred shook his head, unable to think of a way to finish that sentence.   
  
"I dunno. That's what we're trying to figure out. Thanks for letting us know."  
  
Harry followed Ron down the street, leaving the confused couple on the street corner. He found Ron standing on a corner a few blocks away.  
  
"This is stupid. She could be anywhere by now. What the hell are we doing?" Ron screamed into the night. Several nearby muggles stared at him, alarmed.  
  
"Ron!" Harry grabbed his friend's wrist to keep him from punching a brick wall. Ron shook him off, but didn't attempt to punch anything again. Anger spent, he sat on the curb and stared off into space.  
  
"I see her for a moment then she disappears. Are we all going crazy?" Ron asked quietly.   
  
"Probably not."   
  
"Probably?" Ron sniggered.  
  
"Well, at the train station I touched her arm. She seemed solid enough, so she's not a ghost. And other people see her too, so she's not a figment of our imagination. So…" So what?  
  
"Wonder where she's been all this time?" Ron mused. "Wonder if she remembers us at all?"  
  
There really wasn't a reply to that. Harry sat down on the curb next to him. It was perhaps ten minutes, perhaps two hours, before Harry realized that he was looking at someone, not something. A shadow in the park across the street had moved, and through the faint mist in the air, Harry was able to pick out a human form.   
  
"Ron, did you see that?"   
  
"See what?  
  
"Watch that tree over there." Harry was beginning to think he had imagined it, when the shadow moved again, clearly trying to find a more comfortable spot against the tree.  
  
"Who is that?"  
  
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Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	11. The Sunrise

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Chapter Ten  
The Sunrise  
  
Hermione shifted against the tree. The hard bark helped her mind focus. Once over her initial reaction of utter panic, she thought over what she had heard at the Leaky Cauldron. The story told by Johnny was a near perfect fit to her dream memory. It sounded terribly heroic. Hermione couldn't imagine having the nerve to do something like that. Still…  
  
It made sense. It fit with the only clear memory she had of her past life. Plus those two guys who kept popping up could easily have been the two teens in the Dream. Hermione tried to think about what she should do next, but the stress and lack of sleep were getting to her. She didn't really fall asleep, but she wasn't quite conscious either.  
  
The sound of crunching gravel shook her from her reverie. She scanned the area without moving her head or eyes (a useful trick learned on stakeouts). Two men were walking across the street. And not just any two men either.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Ron and Harry walked across the street careful not to alarm the figure sitting in the lee of a tree. They stood a couple of yards away uncertain about what to do. Hermione (there was no mistaking her) gave no sign of noticing their approach. Harry looked at Ron. Ron shrugged.   
  
"Who are you?" Hermione demanded without turning, startling them both.  
  
"Hermione!" Ron choked.  
  
"I asked your name." She replied dryly.   
  
"Ron."  
  
"Harry."  
  
"Hmm." Hermione raised her head and gave them an appraising look, reminiscent of Professor McGonagall.   
  
"You know what my very first memory is?"   
  
"Uh…" Harry and Ron went slack jawed at this strange question.   
  
"Waking up in St. Anne's Hospital with a nurse hovering over my bed, asking me what my name is so they can stop calling me Jane Doe." The sentence released the floodwaters and Hermione founded herself telling two men she had just met what she had resolved to keep secret her whole life.   
  
"They found me bleeding and half-dead in an alley. They started calling me Anne, you know St. Anne's. Do you know what it is like to forget, not just a few events, but your entire life? I spent whole afternoons leafing through the London phone books hoping to find a name or address that was familiar. After I reached 'Zyzniewksi, Amy' for the third time, I gave up and decided if I couldn't remember what I had forgotten, I might as well forget I had forgotten. Then imagine my surprise when years later, two men run up to me on the street, yelling a name that only exists in a dream."   
  
Hermione paused for breath. Ron opened his mouth, but was unable to think of anything to say.  
  
"And just because I don't have enough complications in my life. One of these men ambushes me in a train station and nearly blows my cover. I walk into a pub, just looking for a quiet drink, when what do I hear at the next table, but some inebriated gentlemen talking about the heroic death of Hermione Granger. So naturally some more people I can't remember intercept me on the way out. I can't get a moment's peace." She addressed the final sentence to the pre-dawn sky.  
  
"And imagine our surprise, when a friend we thought long dead is sitting on bench waiting for a bus." Ron replied hotly. "Imagine wondering whether or not you've finally gone crazy until your brother shows up and tells you that he saw your dead friend walking out of a pub. Then once you finally track down this woman she can't give you a straightforward answer to a question as simple as 'Who are you?'"   
  
Harry half-expected Hermione to snap back, but she only smiled.  
  
"Hermione…" Harry began. She raised her head to look him in the eyes. "Do you remember anything?"  
  
She frowned at the ground before answering. The Dream came to mind, but she wasn't ready to tell them about that yet. "Bits and pieces, here and there. Nothing terribly coherent."   
  
"What if we could help you remember?"  
  
There was a long silence. Hermione had never wanted something so much, yet been so afraid of what she would find. The sun began to turn the eastern sky into burnished gold. The fog became a glowing silver mist and started to melt back into the pavement.  
  
"What do I have to do?"  
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Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	12. Complications

for all of you who have been waiting to find out just what will happen to our daring trio.. . keep waiting ;) :ducks barrage of rotten fruit: next chapter! next chapter! i promise! when exactly that chapter will be is anyone's guess. i haven't been getting a lot of writing done, due to the interference of real life. stupid life.   
anyway, this chapter features everyone's favorite dastard...  
  
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Chapter Eleven  
Complication  
  
"Welcome back to London, Mr. Malfoy." The chauffer tipped his black hat. Malfoy nodded to the muggle and got in the car. If the man knew just who it was he was driving, he would have quit right there.   
  
Malfoy found the irony amusing. The muggles and their tedious forms of transportation annoyed him to no end, but had allowed him to slip into London without the knowledge of the Ministry of Magic.   
  
The driver dropped him at a flat near the Thames. Malfoy sighed as he thought of the amount of work ahead of him. Evil crime rings didn't just run themselves, and Malfoy had been away long enough for his subordinates to start getting ideas about putting themselves in charge.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy." The man who greeted Malfoy was the perfect stereotype of the indifferent butler. The man was so utterly forgettable that Malfoy rarely remembered his name. "The others have arrived." Yet the man could inject so much meaning into a phase without any inflection at all.  
  
The 'others' were three men, handpicked and recruited from among the decimated ranks of the Death Eaters. Malfoy had saved each from a life term in Azkaban to ensure their absolute loyalty to him. Unfortunately, this loyalty didn't extend to each other. There used to be four of them.  
  
"Well, well." He let them squirm nervously for a moment. "It seems not one of you had the wit to free me." Goyle preened in the corner. "And while you three were wasting your time in petty squabbles," He paused to glance at the fourth, empty, chair, "my family business had gone to pieces."  
  
Malfoy quit pacing the room angrily and sat down. "Report."  
  
The damage to his 'family business' wasn't as bad as he had feared. Even though the top three had been to busy trying to kill each other and take over, their underlings were sufficiently cowed to carry on without instructions. Most of his men had not been arrested by the Ministry, with the notable exception of Crabbe.   
  
"The Ministry is aware of your escape, sir. But Fudge does not believe that you will return to England immediately. Arthur Weasley's boy disagrees with this." The name of his old enemy brought a scowl to Malfoy's face. It was bad enough that the damned Mudblood lover had become an Auror. Then Ron Weasley forced him to flee the country into the hands of those thrice damned Americans.   
  
The lackey mistook the scowl as something directed at him. The tall man kept himself from cowering, but just barely. He opened his mouth once or twice to say something, but was unable to force the words out.  
  
"Say it." Malfoy ordered, inwardly amused by the man's impression of a fish.   
  
"There are rumours in the Ministry, sir. Rumours that Hermione Granger has been found alive."  
  
Malfoy allowed his jaw to drop in shock for a moment, then shut it with a snap. Hermione Granger, that annoying whiny Mudblood, alive? Not possible, the Dark Lord had murdered her. Right?  
  
Seeing Malfoy's interest, the lackey continued quickly. "She's been seen all over London this past week. But she doesn't seem to have any memory of her life before her alleged death."  
  
Alleged death? Malfoy gave himself a mental shake. One of the keys of maintaining power was to give the impression that you know it all already.   
  
"Excellent. We can turn this to our advantage." The plots were already beginning to form in his brain.  
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Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	13. The Alma Mater

uh... i can't think of an author's note. just think up something clever and pretend i said it.  
  
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Chapter Twelve  
The Alma Mater  
  
The faint sound of someone moving around woke Hermione from her strangely peaceful dreams of red trains and castles. Hermione enjoyed the luxury of slowly coming to consciousness. The bed, blankets, and pillow were excessively fluffy this morning. She vaguely thought of trying to find her watch to see what time it was, but gave it up. Moving would only destroy the lovely sensation of this scarlet cocoon.  
  
Wait. Red? Her comforter was green. Hermione struggled out of the blankets and sat up. Since when were the walls made of stone?  
  
"Tea, Miss?" A voice squeaked behind her. Hermione turned and damn near fell out of the bed in shock. A small green person with big floppy ears was offering her a china cup filled with steaming liquid.  
  
"Er, thanks." Hermione took the cup automatically and sipped the brown liquid. Very good tea.  
  
"The sirs are waiting for you outside Miss." The creature beamed at her in a maternal sort of way and left. Part of Hermione's brain was unsurprised by this event, while the other part was gibbering in a corner. Something wasn't quite right.   
  
She poured herself some more tea from the pot left behind by the small creature and considered this. Hermione remembered leaving London with those two men, Harry and Ron. Ron mentioned wistfully that the Hogwarts Express couldn't come for them so they would have to Apperate. Before she could ask what he was talking about (although she had no idea where to start) she was standing outside the grounds of a large, familiarly unfamiliar castle.  
  
After walking up to the castle steps, the prim woman who greeted them said something about owls before leading them down several meandering corridors, up three staircases, down another and across a courtyard before depositing them in what looked to be the guest quarters.  
  
She must have fallen asleep immediately. Three weeks of undercover work coupled with several Dreams and not sleeping at all last night had conspired to make her very tired.  
  
Her watch read 5:15. She wondered if that was a.m. or p.m. Her coat and shoes lay by the door, but she had slept in her clothes, which were now distinctly rumpled. There was a bathroom connected to the bedroom, also decked out in scarlet. There was a hair brush and (thank god) toothbrush and Hermione did her best to make it look as if she had not just woken up.  
  
That battle won, or at least fought to a stalemate, Hermione went to find the 'sirs'.  
  
Her room opened into a small sitting room, decorated in (what else) red. Another door led off into a second bedroom, unoccupied. Hermione tried the third door, feeling as if she were on some strange game show. This one led out into the courtyard of last night.   
  
Two men sat by the fountain. When she came out they stood quickly, trying to look as if they had not been waiting around for the past hour. The three stood like that for a moment, feeling extremely awkward. What was an appropriate topic of conversation in this situation?  
  
Good morning Hermione. You're looking well. By the way, do you happen to remember anything about your life?  
  
Hello Ron. Terribly sorry, but I still have no clue who you are and do you mind telling me just where the hell I am?  
  
"Er. Mornin'" The one with glasses, no his name was Harry. Harry spoke to the ground with both hands stuffed into his pockets, making him look rather like a schoolboy caught ditching class.  
  
"Miss Granger, I can't tell you how delighted I am to see you again." The prim woman from last night strode down the hallway, beaming at her. As an afterthought, Hermione's brain noted that the woman was wearing velvet robes and a witch's hat.  
  
"Er, yeah." Hermione desperately searched her memory for a name to put with the face. It hovered at the very edge of her tongue, only to flee at the next words.  
  
"Dumbledore wishes to see all of you. I trust you remember the way?" The question was directed at Harry, who grinned in a feebly embarrassed sort of way. Hermione waited until the woman was out of earshot to speak.  
  
"Who's Dumbledore?"  
  
Ron looked faintly annoyed, as if he'd hoped that the few hours of sleep between dawn in the park and the early morning here would have jogged her memory. Hermione was also annoyed, because those memories kept popping into her head, then fading away like mist on the wind before she could get more than a vague impression. Harry sensed danger brewing.   
  
"Uh, his office is this way."  
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Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	14. A Blinding Flash of Insight

i just don't know what happened. i was typing away and all of a sudden i realized i had three chapters in front of me. so i present to you ::drum roll, peal of trumpets:: the UBER-update! that's right, three complete chapters for your reading enjoyment. por favor leyen y revista, en ingles si posible. adios!  
  
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Chapter Thirteen  
  
A Blinding Flash of Insight  
  
Hermione had always thought that if she ever did regain her memories, they would all come back in a blinding flash of insight. No such luck. But as Harry led the way through the school's myriad corridors, memories jumped out at her from around corners.   
  
That was where Ron had punched Draco for calling her names. Over there was a slight crimson stain left by the Heir of Slytherin. The memories were disjointed and entirely out of order. Oh well, at least she was getting somewhere.   
  
Hermione walked forward past the large statue of the bird lost in thought. One of the men cleared his throat. She turned to see them standing on the pedestal. She took this latest bit of madness with equanimity and stepped up on the platform. The staircase jolted to life, depositing all three of them at a rather unassuming door.  
  
Dumbledore was waiting for them.  
  
"Ah, Miss Granger. I'm glad to see you up and about. The same goes for you Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter." Hermione immediately trusted this hairy old man. Not just because he looked like the clone of Father Christmas, but because she knew that he would have all the answers.  
  
"Thank you sir." Hermione replied easily.  
  
"Now I know you must have many questions, so I shall try to answer some of them, hmm? Take a seat."  
  
They all did. Hermione vaguely noted the décor. It resembled a library, with occasional occult object lying about casually to prevent the room from looking too normal. A silver perch for a rather large bird stood empty, with a couple scarlet feathers littered around the base. Hermione wondered absently where the parrot was.  
  
"Hermione," Dumbledore's voice brought her back to earth immediately. "I fear that the person who knows the most about what as happened to you, is you. A great deal about that night remains a mystery, mainly because only you three survived." He paused to allow them to consider this.  
  
"Voldemort tried to work a spell. The key component of this spell was blood. Sacrificed blood. Every human carries within themselves a tremendous amount of mystical energy. Witches and wizards tend to have a bit more of this energy simply because they are working with magic all the time. Death releases this energy, and dark wizards can use this energy to augment their own. Violent death releases much more energy than natural death." Dumbledore shook himself out of lecture mode with an effort. "The point is Voldemort tried to kill you to use this energy."   
  
"No, he tried to get you to kill us." Ron interrupted. He had his eyes fixed on one of the feathers. "The Imperius Curse."  
  
"He said to kill us and then yourself." Harry added.  
  
"Anyway," Ron continued, "you couldn't break the Curse. But I guess you managed to reinterpret it."  
  
"I tried to kill myself first." Hermione finished. In another 'blinding flash of insight' moment, the Dream came back to her, in perfect clarity. "Sorry 'bout that."  
  
Dumbledore maintained his silence during this exchange. Suddenly, Hermione remembered his presence. "So why can't I remember any of this?"  
  
"Physical trauma from your wound, emotional distress, the rather chaotic aftermath of Voldemort's demise. A combination of factors most likely. The mind is such a strange thing." Dumbledore replied serenely.  
  
"Voldemort's dead?" Hermione was vaguely surprised at herself for saying the name, but couldn't remember why yet.  
  
"You bought us time to instigate the plan we had ready." Harry replied. "Plus, when you screwed up his spell, it hurt him pretty bad. So yeah, he's dead." Ron snorted, as if this was a rather large understatement.  
  
"So, how do I get my memory back?"   
  
"Memory is a tricky thing." Dumbledore said slowly. "Your memories were not erased, simply buried. You must dig them out. There is no spell for this." He paused to allow them to process this.  
  
"You're saying that I've got to jog my memory?"   
  
"Why can't you just cast a spell?" Ron burst out. Dumbledore gazed at him steadily.  
  
"Too much magic is what brought about this mess in the first place." He turned his gaze back to Hermione. "I believe your memories have already started to assert themselves?"   
  
Hermione thought of the walk down the corridors. "Ever since I saw Harry and Ron at the bus stop, I keep getting these flashes. Just bits and pieces, nothing very exciting. Doing homework, sitting in class, walking down the hallway, people flying on broomsticks…" Hermione trailed off searching for the name of the sport, "Quidditch."  
  
Dumbledore beamed at her. "You see? It will take some time, no doubt, and it will be rather frustrating, but you will remember it eventually." An idea seemed to occur to him. "Why don't you take a walk around? I always find that physical activity helps me remember what I've forgotten."   
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Hermione stepped off the staircase, feeling like she was stepping out of a dream. Harry and Ron also appeared rather dazed. They set off walking automatically and found themselves in the entrance hall.   
  
"Er, well…" Ron gave up. This was terribly hard. It was worse than talking with a complete stranger, because at least with the stranger, you know where you stand.   
  
"I know!" Harry said suddenly. "The library. We spent plenty of time there. It's as good as place to start as any."  
  
Hermione had always had a secret weakness for libraries. Not even being stabbed, hit on the head, and spending five years as a muggle could change that. She thought that there was something very awe-inspiring and humbling about rows upon rows of texts, each filled with a special energy and vitality, as if the writer had poured some of himself into the page.   
  
Harry and Ron watched her wander off into the stacks, with a very familiar expression on her face. "That's our 'Mione."   
  
"What, did Hermione become too much of a mouthful for you, Ron?" Hermione's voice echoed up out of a canyon of books. Harry and Ron grinned at each other. That was almost exactly what she said the first time Ron had used the nickname.  
  
Hermione emerged from the shelves with a large leatherback volume. "I wanted to find this for some reason and I can't remember why." She turned it over so they could see the cover.  
  
"Ancient History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot." Harry read aloud. "It was a homework assignment, the day you disappeared; an essay on Egyptian wizards and their effect on the muggle world." Harry wondered absently why he remembered that.  
  
Ron stifled a snigger. "Y'know what 'Mione? I reckon this is the first time you've ever forgotten a homework assignment."   
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
After the library they went to Gryffindor Tower. It wasn't a conscious decision; it was just where they usually went after going to the library.   
  
"Didn't there used to be a table here?" Hermione was standing by one of the windows, looking at the large open space in the usually cluttered common room.   
  
"Er, yeah." Ron replied. "Toward the end of the year it got broken by a fourth year, remember?"   
  
"That's right; he was practicing a levitation charm and overdid it. Smashed it into a million pieces on the ceiling." Hermione looked up at scorch mark on high stone ceiling as the memory passed before her eyes like a movie. The three of them had been sitting on the other side of the room when the large, smoking table shot up into the air. The heavy oak shattered, raining fragments on the entire room. The boy had gotten detention for it.  
  
Hermione looked down to see Ron and Harry grinning at each other again. "Are you going to do that every time I remember something?" She teased.   
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Hermione paused next to the statue of Godric Gryffindor on the way to the Owlery.   
  
"What is it?" Ron asked. Hermione just shook her head.  
  
"Give me a second, I'm trying to remember." Hermione stared at the statue for a full minute. Ron got a horrible feeling that he knew what she was trying to remember. The night Hermione was kidnapped by the Dark Lord; the last place she'd been seen was in this corridor.  
  
All of a sudden Hermione dropped to her knees and began feeling around underneath the base of the statue.   
  
"Hermione, what are you…" Harry began, but cut himself off when Hermione sat up, brandishing her wand triumphantly.  
  
"I can't believe that's still there. The house elves will be furious once they realize the missed a spot." Ron grinned.  
  
Hermione frowned. "House elves." She remembered something about house elves. Now what was it? Ron and Harry exchanged nervous glances.   
  
"Er. Never mind. Hey do you remember the time you made the sleeping potion for Crabbe and Goyle?" Harry said quickly before Hermione could remember her indignation and S.P.E.W.  
  
Hermione was momentarily distracted by the question, but only momentarily. Instead of looking off into space, she focused on something over Ron's shoulder.   
  
"Hagrid." She said to herself. The alarmingly large man turned at the sound of his name, dropping the large sack he was carrying unceremoniously to the floor.  
  
"Harry! Ron! Good to see yeh!" Hagrid hailed them. He had just come in the doors, and was standing fifty feet away. He seemed to be squinting at Hermione. "What might you be doin' here…" He trailed off as he came within range. "Hermione?"  
  
Hermione felt herself go a bit pale. Her memories of this man were like a catalyst, releasing all the rest in a rush. It was rather dizzying. Her feet didn't seem to be touching the ground anymore. Literally.  
  
Hagrid swept her up in a giant hug, reassuring himself that she was indeed solid. "Hermione! You're...but…how?"  
  
"The rumours of my death were greatly exaggerated." Hermione managed to say, after she got her breath back.   
  
Hagrid insisted that they would all have a cuppa. He radiated happiness all the way back to his cabin at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He also kept looking up at Hermione to make sure she hadn't faded away.  
  
Hermione looked around the small cabin. It seemed so much smaller than before. Perhaps it was the presence of three full sized adults rather than three teens. Maybe it was just not having been here in five years.  
  
"Now then," Hagrid clasped his large tankard of tea thoughtfully. "Hermione, what have yeh been up to these past years."  
  
Hermione opened her mouth, and to her great surprise, found a strange story about being in hiding tumbling out of her mouth. For some reason, she couldn't bear to tell the truth to this man looking at her like a paternalistic mammoth. Harry and Ron were strangely silent during her recitation. Hermione suspected they were biting their tongues.   
  
The gist of the story was the Hermione's life was somehow in danger after they defeated You-Know-Who, so she went into a sort of witness protection program. Hagrid accepted the story without comment but there was an amused light in his eyes that told her he saw through the deception.  
  
After the explanation, Hagrid launched into a tale involving Nifflers and some first years and suddenly it was just like the old days. They might have reminisced all the way into the night, if the conversation hadn't been interrupted by a knock at the door.  
  
"Professor! Good to see yeh. I'm 'fraid there isn't much room left." Hagrid stepped back to make room.   
  
"Thank you Hagrid. Ah, I thought I might find you three here." Dumbledore said. "Hagrid, I'm afraid you left something in the entrance hall. Mr. Filch requested that you remove it."  
  
"Blimey! I forgot all 'bout it. I'll be right back." Hagrid swept out the door. The cabin began to feel a great deal larger.   
  
"Will you be staying with us tonight?" It annoyed Hermione that the first thought in her head was ~What will I wear? ~   
  
"I should go back." Hermione remembered her job back in the muggle world and winced. "My captain will have a fit if she figures out I've dropped off the face of the planet."  
  
Dumbledore smiled as if he expected that. "I imagine you have a few loose ends."  
  
They met Hagrid outside. He dropped his burden in the garden to give them all a hug. The sack twitched a few times before becoming inanimate again. "Now don't you wait five years for another visit." Hagrid admonished, as they bid him goodbye and walked off Hogwarts grounds, to Disapparate back to London.  
  
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Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	15. Moving Day

capítulo dos of the uber-update, and the continuing challenge to see how many different languages i can squeeze into this story. let's see, we've got spanish, german, english, and egyptian so far...   
  
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Chapter Fourteen  
  
Moving Day  
  
The frenzy of activity was almost over. The first thing she did upon arrival was send a letter to the admissions office telling them she was dropping out. Actually, that was the second thing she did. The first thing was reassure Ron and Harry that she was not going to disappear again. Then she had packed up everything and moved it back to her real apartment in the city, much to the chagrin of her roommate.   
  
Hermione looked over the piles of boxes with a satisfied smile. Then she frowned as a large thump and some mild swearing came from the corridor.   
  
"Careful with that." She called to Ron, who was trying to wrestle the cardboard box through the doorframe and not having very much success.   
  
"What do you have in here, rocks?"   
  
"Books." Ron replied with an inarticulate mutter. Hermione sighed. "Wingardium Leviosa." The box sailed easily onto a stack as Hermione tucked her wand back up her sleeve.  
  
"Tsk, tsk, working magic where muggles can see. Ron will have to report you for that." Hermione giggled as Harry settled his floating box next to the door. Ron tried to look dignified but was unable to keep his ears from turning red.  
  
"What are you going to do now?"  
  
"Well, first I have to quit my muggle job. Then, who knows?" Hermione shrugged. "Maybe I could go teach at Hogwarts."  
  
"What is your job anyway?"  
  
"Er, police work." Hermione tried to sound nonchalant, but it didn't work. Harry still gave her that look everyone gave her when she said that. Surprised and comprehending, as if that made sense somehow, but they weren't sure how exactly. Ron though, looked positively gleeful.  
  
"You don't say." Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.  
  
"And what do you do nowadays?" She purposely directed the question at Harry. "Did you accept that invitation to play for the Cannons?"  
  
"Er, no. I got a letter from the all-England team." Harry shrugged, mildly embarrassed. "Beats working for a living."  
  
"I work for the Ministry." Ron said when Hermione turned her gaze on him. "Department of Magical Law Enforcement."  
  
"Ron's an Auror." Harry added helpfully.  
  
"Y'know 'Mione." Ron tried to be nonchalant. "We're pretty hard up for experienced people down at the office. There's still a lot of cleaning up after You-Know-Who's followers to do."  
  
"Hmm." Hermione grinned. If he wasn't going to ask, she wasn't going to answer.  
  
"How would you like to come work for the Ministry?" Ron said this very fast.   
  
"What do I know about Magical Law? I mean, sure, I remember about Hogwarts and everything, but that doesn't make me qualified to be an Auror."  
  
"Sure it does. You got one of the highest N.E.W.T. levels ever; every department in the Ministry is going to want you."  
  
"What about training…"  
  
As Hermione and Ron argued good-naturedly, Harry was busy trying to melt into the corner. He was positively gleeful to have Hermione back, not in the least because of her relationship with Ron. If he'd had any doubts about Ron's feelings toward Hermione, they were dispelled when Ron took in Crookshanks after Hogwarts. Harry just hoped it wouldn't take another seven years from them to realize they loved each other again.  
  
"All right fine." Hermione threw up her hands. "I'll think about."  
  
"I'll start cleaning out a cubicle for you."  
  
"I said I'll think about it, Ron. Nothing more."  
  
"It's got a great view and everything."  
  
All was right with the world.  
  
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Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	16. Not Quitting, Just Leaving

l'extrémité chapter of das uber-update. alas, no amore in this chapter, but it will be coming soon. liram e revisao! das vadanya! (let's see, that's french, italian, portugese, and russian. ain't babelfish grand?)  
  
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Chapter Fifteen  
Not Quitting, Just Leaving  
  
Hermione had dreaded the confrontation with Inspector Hargrave. She was generally an easy going person, unless one of her cases started to go south. When Hermione had appeared in her office, resignation in hand, Hargrave was torn between anger at her AWOL officer and joy at the resolution of her case.  
  
"That letter cinched it, Hathaway." Hermione resisted the urge to look around to see who she was talking to. "It all came down like a house of cards. We were a little worried when we couldn't find you yesterday."   
  
Hermione knew she wasn't getting out of here until Hargrave got a semi-reasonable explanation. A careful mixture of truth and exaggeration seemed to be the best course of action.  
  
"It's kinda weird. Work here hasn't been what I expected. I ran into a couple of old school friends last night. One of them offered me a job with his company. He took me on a tour of the place, to convince me." Hermione shrugged. "What can I say? Once I made up my mind, there didn't seem to be any reason to hang around."  
  
Hargrave fiddled with a pen while she considered this. She had lifted an eyebrow when Hermione had mentioned that the friend was male. Hargrave was very adept at understanding interpersonal relationships, and she caught the fact that perhaps this friend was something more than just a friend right away.   
  
"And you're sure this is what you want?" Hargrave examined the resignation letter. Hermione nodded firmly. Hargrave signed it with a flourish of her pen.  
  
"Sorry to lose you Hathaway."   
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
"You know you're crazy right?"  
  
"So I hear." Hermione looked up at her partner, who was helping her clean out her desk by sitting on it. "Look, I know it seems hasty, but I know what I'm doing."  
  
"What exactly are you going to be doing?" Isabella asked.  
  
"Working in the private sector."  
  
"Uh-huh." Around here, that generally meant that you were going to work for some private security company as a consultant. But those jobs usually appealed to the officers closer to retirement age, who didn't wish to chase thugs at all hours of the night. Isabella, however, knew better than to push for more information. Anne Hathaway had been secretive all her life, she wasn't about to change now.  
  
"Just don't disappear into the night or anything. You still owe me that twenty."   
  
Hermione stood to indignantly protest that a tie does not constitute a win or a loss and that bet was technically un-winnable. Then she noticed Isabella's satisfaction at getting a reaction out of her now ex-partner.   
  
"That game was a tie. You can't collect when no one wins."  
  
"Pfft. You bet that Bristol would win. They didn't win did they?"   
  
Hermione refused to dignify that with a response. She hefted the cardboard box of files and knickknacks.   
  
"All done." Hermione held out her hand. Isabella took it and pulled her into a hug.  
  
"Tell you what, you buy me lunch sometime, introduce me to this old friend of yours and we'll call it even."  
  
"Deal."  
  
Isabella sat on the now empty desk and watched Hermione weave her way to the door. She was aware that she was missing something here, but something told her that it was better that way. Whatever she was getting herself into, Hermione was more than capable of getting herself out, and may God help whoever got in her way.  
  
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Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	17. The Plot Congeals

kitty : ask and ye shall receive...  
  
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Chapter Sixteen  
The Plot Congeals  
  
Draco Malfoy watched the muggles scurry about thoughtfully. He found it rather interesting that his father had met his downfall trying to destroy these useless creatures. Although the legendary Azkaban was no longer guarded by dementors, the name still made grown wizards nervous. Draco was just pleased to have his father neatly tied up an out of the way. He certainly had no love for the muggles, but why waste time and energy on them that could be used to increase one's own power.   
  
That was Draco's plan. Even a marginally talented wizard could use his power to rob these muggles blind. The possibilities in simple bank robbery were endless. He shook himself out of half-formed dreams of an Italian villa and turned his thoughts back to the present. There were things to do first.  
  
There was a curt knock at the door  
  
"Come."  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, delightful to see you back from America." Malfoy's contact with the muggle underworld smiled slightly. Anderson knew just how valuable he was to Malfoy's plans, and acted with a corresponding degree of arrogance. Malfoy ignored the implied insult.  
  
"Good to be back. How have your people fared during my absence?"   
  
"Horribly." Anderson replied honestly, surprising Malfoy. "Three of them are in jail for prior offences. Do you know how hard it is to find someone with experience in explosives who won't brag about the things he's blown up?"  
  
"I leave for a year and everything goes to hell." Malfoy was amused by this. Anderson was annoyed, until Malfoy told him of his plan. Anderson was quite pleased at the prospect of thirty million pounds, even if it was split five ways.  
  
After Anderson left, Malfoy went back to watching muggles pass on the street below. A nice Italian villa, with all those comforts the muggles held so dear. Perhaps even an island in the Pacific somewhere.  
  
Of course, he had a score to settle with Weasley first. And Granger. Malfoy couldn't believe that she'd actually survived. The story went that she'd been in hiding, like some of the other survivors of the Death Eaters. That story didn't feel right to him, but he didn't much care. Revenge would take some careful consideration.  
  
Draco once again reflected on the difference between him and his father. The elder Malfoy would have rushed in without a plan, intent on doing as much damage as possible without regard for his own well-being. Oh well, that's why Lucius Malfoy was in Azkaban and his son wasn't.  
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Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	18. Subtle He Ain't

all hail the ever mighty Fowl-Star, (HAIL!) who nearly gave me a stroke by posting eleven reviews. i am ever so glad to see her back, and hope her cat is alright. she also gets a whole plateful of lemon-sugar cookies for knowing what ma'at is and correcting my spelling.i didn't know the chick from the princess diaries was named anne hathaway (i was thinking nurse hathaway from ER).   
  
::ahem:: now that that's done, on with the show.  
  
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Chapter Seventeen  
  
Subtle He Ain't  
  
"Mr. Weasley, oof!" Ron turned to see Dennis Fletcher, intern, run into an extremely irritated wizard. "Sorry. Mr. Weasley!" Dennis manoeuvred around the man and caught up with his boss. "This just came for you, from Harris."  
  
Harris* Bowman was the brother of a muggle-born wizard, but unable to work magic himself. He kept an eye on the muggle police force, making sure that the muggles didn't find any incriminating evidence of wizarding world. The man had a talent for explaining the unexplainable.  
  
Weasley took the note. It was terse and to the point.   
  
Wizard blew up a bank. Get here now. Bring the cute one.  
  
-H  
  
No one ever accused Harris of being too focused on his work.   
  
"Hey 'Mione, we got a case." Hermione was too used to the contraction of her name to frown in disapproval.  
  
"Meaning?"  
  
Ron handed her the note. She rolled her eyes. "He doesn't give up, does he?" Ron only shrugged, suppressing his amusement. Harris was going to get clobbered one of these days, but he was having fun while it lasted.  
  
"Shall we?"  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
"Subtle he ain't."   
  
Hermione resisted the urge to correct Harris' grammar. The sentiment was correct. The unknown wizard had cut a near perfect circle into the back of the bank, directly into the vault. The scorched brick wall was still smoking slightly, and the metal wall of the vault was still warm to the touch.   
  
"What did you tell them?" Ron nodded at the patrol officers, who were sipping coffee and watching the supposed experts from the SAS** work.   
  
"That someone was showing off with an Acetylene welding torch."  
  
Ron looked to Hermione for a translation. She replied without glancing up from her careful examination of the edge of the circle.  
  
"Kind of like a fire spell on steroids. I'd say that he used a simple Melting Potion. Why on earth didn't he just Apparate in, take the money and Apparate out?"  
  
"To show off? To mess with the muggles' heads?" Ron shrugged.  
  
"Maybe he was working with muggles and didn't want to do anything that he couldn't rationalize. Pretty hard to explain how you pop in and out of thin air." Harris would know; he'd probably done it before.  
  
"Can you trace the money?" Hermione asked.  
  
"We're working on it. It's not an easy thing to do." Harris shrugged. "Most bank robbers get caught in the act due to bad luck or their own incompetence. And this wizard of yours will probably send it through that bank of yours, Griswold's."   
  
"Gringotts."  
  
"Whatever. I can't exactly send them the standard bulletin."  
  
"Don't worry; we'll do it for you."   
  
"We'll take a few photographs and samples back to the lab; see if we can't get more information about the type of torch used on the wall. I don't think its anything that required SAS intervention, though." Ron said just loudly enough for the milling officers to hear.  
  
"Well, thank you for coming out, Lieutenant." Handshakes were exchanged and Ron and Hermione walked back to the car used by the Ministry in its dealings with muggles.   
  
Hermione never tired of seeing Ron make up some ruse on the fly. Hermione said he had a talent for subterfuge. Ron said he learned the skill when he had to explain why his homework wasn't done. None of the officers present would investigate further, each thinking that someone else was handling it. Harris would ensure that the file would mysteriously disappear on the way to the filing cabinet.   
  
Despite London's crowded streets, it was no time at all before they were back at the Ministry's offices.   
  
"That's the third obviously magical bank robbery in two months. I'm beginning to sense a pattern." Ron said sardonically.   
  
"I guess it's my turn to go to Gringotts this time and warn them." Hermione sighed dramatically. "That goblin won't be happy to see me."   
  
Hermione made no move toward the cubicle door. She just sat in Ron's chair, her feet on Ron's desk. Ron sat on the desk, careful not to disturb one of the towers of paper and manila folders. He accidentally nudged one stack balanced precariously on the edge and covered the floor with several layers of papers.  
  
Hermione giggled as Ron cursed. She reached out to pat his hand consolingly and he snatched it up. For some reason, Ron felt a huge swell of happiness and contentment. He couldn't stop grinning like an idiot.  
  
"What?"  
  
"It just seems like for the first time everything is right." Ron said, not quite sure how to express himself clearly. "Like this is the way it should have turned out all along."  
  
"Ma'at." Hermione nodded.  
  
"What about a mat?"  
  
"Ma'at. The Egyptian concept of right order and balance."  
  
"Er, yeah. That."  
  
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* Tribute to the late, great Richard Harris. He is sorely missed.  
  
** The SAS (Special Air Service) is sorta like the British version of the FBI.   
  
Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	19. The Golden Wand

romance chapter. see i told you i'd get around to it eventually!  
  
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Chapter Eighteen  
  
The Golden Wand  
  
The Golden Wand was one of the most prestigious restaurants in Wizarding London. Marble columns with a lotus motif held up the replica of an ancient Egyptian palace. Unlike Hogwarts, the Golden Wand's ceiling always showed a clear starry night with a full moon (or a brilliant blue sky filled with wispy clouds). Everything, right down to the goblets was a replica of Egyptian artefacts. The fanciful gilded columns and hieroglyphics made an interesting contrast to the solid Grecian stylings of Gringotts next door.  
  
"Here. Table for two next Saturday."  
  
"Thanks mate. Maybe I should have become a Quidditch star so I could get reservations at classy restaurants."  
  
"Nah, there needs to be one of to bail us out of jail."   
  
"When are you going to tell Hermione about this?"   
  
"Wednesday. It gives her enough time to plan ahead, but not enough to refuse."  
  
"Good strategy."  
  
  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
"A very clever plan, get Harry to make reservations, then surprise me. Devious."  
  
Ron pretended to be shocked. "How did you know?" Hermione only chuckled, stirring that French soup she liked so much. "I figured what-the-hell; apparently this is their off-season so getting a table isn't entirely impossible."  
  
Ron poked at his mashed potatoes. Naturally, the food came out of the kitchen far too hot to eat. Oh well, at least the menu here was far more diverse than any muggle restaurant. There weren't many places that served French food next to Chinese food next to… well, whatever it was it looked rather like grubs.   
  
"Maybe one day I'll be able to command a table with the title Minister of Magic." Ron pronounced grandly. Hermione chuckled again. They both knew Ron didn't want a higher position than Minister of Law Enforcement. Anything higher would entail more paperwork than actual work.  
  
"Only if Percy doesn't beat you to it."  
  
"He's welcome to it. He can hardly be worse than Fudge." Ron glared at his potatoes. Hermione nodded sympathetically. She had been fortunate enough to be unconscious for most of the debacle at the Ministry after Voldemort's defeat. She had also adopted a very Zen attitude towards life lately.  
  
"It'll be nice to get Fudge out of the Ministry altogether. He means well, but road to hell and good intentions and all that." Hermione shrugged. "I'm surprised he hasn't 'retired' early already."  
  
Ron began to reply then shut his mouth with a snap.   
  
"What?"  
  
"Barely three sentences into the conversation, and we're talking about work again. Let's talk about something else."  
  
"The weather's been very nice lately."  
  
"Very nice."  
  
"Good weather for magical bank robberies." Hermione smiled impishly.   
  
"Ahem."  
  
"Oh, very well." Hermione glanced around at the décor. "How about Egypt? What's Bill been doing for Gringotts recently?"  
  
"Well, he got promoted, and he finally cut his hair. Mum's still mad because he dyed it black and got a green streak put in it."  
  
"Maybe if he ever gets married he'll get a decent haircut."  
  
"Not at this rate. The promotion was to the Anti-Fraud Dept. He's spending nights and weekends sniffing out fake Galleons for the Ministry."  
  
"Ahh, ahh. You mentioned the Ministry." Hermione waved her fork at him. It was Ron's turn to grin mischievously.   
  
"Okay, how's this, your damn cat leaves fur all over everything."  
  
"He's a cat, that's his purpose in life." This, however, was a conversational dead end, and Hermione smiled as Ron struggle to find another thing to say.  
  
"Oh all right, you win. Let us talk about the Ministry." There was only one thing better than truly loving your job, and that was sharing it with someone you love.  
  
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Fowl-Star: the letter was supposed to be from Harris. i guess it was one of those things that makes sense in your head but doesn't come out right  
  
Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	20. Good Morning London

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Chapter Nineteen  
  
Good Morning London  
  
Hermione woke up the next morning, trying to figure out why the sun was coming in her window like that. Once her brain woke up, the answer was obvious. It wasn't her window.  
  
Hermione sat up and took stock of her surroundings. She was in Ron's bed in Ron's apartment with just a touch of stiffness that told her how much she drank last night. She was still wearing her clothes from the night before, and found this vaguely disappointing. Oh well.  
  
Hermione yawned and went in search of Ron and something hot to drink. She found one at least. There was a kettle full of water on the stove and she found the mugs after some rummaging. There was a note from Ron Spellotaped to the kettle. It seemed to say something about work and being back soon, but it was hard to tell. Ron's handwriting was a challenge when he was awake.  
  
After half a mug of tea, there was a knock at the door. Thinking it was Ron, and not thinking why he would knock at his own door, she opened it.  
  
"Hey R- uh…" Harry had totally forgotten what day it was.   
  
"Uh… Hi Harry."  
  
"'lo Hermione. Is Ron home?" The absurdity of the situation finally struck home, and Hermione couldn't stop giggling at Harry's shocked face.   
  
"Hey," Harry protested, becoming very embarrassed. Then he saw the humour of the situation. They were both just getting their breath back when Ron Apperated in the living room waving a slip of parchment.  
  
" 'Mione, we got a lead… oh… Hi Harry." Ron's ears turned very red. He noticed Hermione's suppressed laughter and made a valiant effort to collect himself.  
  
"The muggles tracked down some of that stolen money. It was used to buy some property in Italy, Sicily to be precise. It came from an organization affiliated with Malfoy."  
  
"What? The Death Eaters?" Hermione   
  
Harry shook his head. "Malfoy, Draco that is, was never part of the Death Eaters. He seemed to think it a waste of time. After his dad got thrown into Azkaban, he started his own little organized crime syndicate, but all they seemed interested in was money.  
  
"I spent three years track that slimy git down, and what does he do?" Ron threw up his hands annoyed. "Flees London, straight into the hands of the Americans. Shoulda known it was him when those banks started getting robbed."  
  
"What are you smiling at Hermione?"  
  
"Nothing. How did you catch him last time?"  
  
Harry answered. "He's fairly predictable. Last time he was robbing the home safes of wealthy muggles, taking jewels and such. He always did it on a Tuesday night and always in the same neighbourhood. A couple of more weeks and we would have caught him."  
  
"Someone tipped him off that we were staking out houses and he decided to take a trip to America. We sent a message to the Americans on the off chance that they'd see him." Ron snorted at their beginner's luck.  
  
A thought occurred to Hermione. "Just what was England's rookie Seeker doing on a Ministry stakeout?" Both Harry and Ron assumed the too-innocent look they used when they were caught sneaking around the corridors at night.  
  
"I just happened to be in the neighbourhood at the time. Honest." Harry grinned. "Some habits die hard."  
  
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Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	21. Schemes and Plottings

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Chapter Twenty  
  
Schemes and Plottings  
  
"Two ninety eight, two ninety nine, three hundred thousand. Non sequential small bills and all the rest of that subterfuge crap." A nameless lackey snapped the briefcase shut on Malfoy's share of the money and slid it across the table. Anderson smiled.  
  
"Pleasure to be doing business with you again, Mr. Malfoy."   
  
"Good to be back at work again, Mr. Anderson."   
  
"There is another affair in the planning stages that could make use of your unique talents."  
  
"I look forward to it." Malfoy waited for Anderson to leave with his lackey before Disapperating back to his new London flat. He seriously doubted that he would still be around to help Anderson with his 'little affair', but one couldn't very well say no. The three hundred thousand tonight was the final part of his payment for the bank robbery. That villa in Italy seemed to be calling his name.  
  
First things first, however. Running a criminal enterprise was at least as difficult as running a legitimate one. There was so much planning and coordination to be done, and it all had to be done out of sight of the authorities.   
  
Tonight, one of his operatives from the Ministry of Magic was due to report. Malfoy hoped to learn something that would assist him in his revenge against Weasley and Potter. And against all logic, Hermione Granger had come back from the dead with some bullshit tale about being in hiding. There had to be something he could use against them.  
  
He reminded himself to be patient. Malfoy had learned a lot of things from his father's failures, and patience was one of them.   
  
The meeting was at one of the muggle pubs scattered throughout London. The agent was a mere desk clerk, and his information been limited to the reports that crossed his desk and office gossip. Still, Sorenson had kept his job through countless sweeps for double agents mainly because he didn't often hear anything important.   
  
Once again, Malfoy cursed his inability to get a higher ranking informant. The days of Voldemort had made the Ministry very good at ferreting out double agents.   
  
"Wait. Say that again."  
  
Sorenson was unaware of the personal vendetta between him and Weasley. "The Aurors Granger and Weasley have been dating for three weeks. It's something of an open secret. There's a hundred Galleon pool on when the wedding will be announced."  
  
"Indeed." Malfoy smiled to himself. Granger and Weasley had been quite disgustingly smitten that seventh year. Back then the pool was only ten Galleons. This could work to his advantage. "And have you placed a bet in this pool?"  
  
"Three months from now. September 19th actually." The agent replied promptly. Malfoy chuckled softly. It was too bad the agent was going to lose his bet.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	22. The Note

Fowl-STar: the email is kerowyn@attbi.com or kerowynn47@attbi.com my email enjoys spazzing out on me frequently so try both.   
  
everyone else: you can email me too!  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Chapter Twenty One  
  
The Note  
  
Hermione took the Underground home. Work today had been incredibly frustrating. Every single lead in the Malfoy case had quickly hit a dead end. They had more than enough evidence to send him to Azkaban; they just had to find him.   
  
The train screeched to a stop. The afternoon crowds made it impossible for her to find a seat, and people jostled her on their way out of the car. This did not improve Hermione's mood any; and she fumed at herself for not Apperating home like a sensible witch.   
  
The one benefit of riding the Underground was that it deposited her almost directly beneath her apartment. It was only four flights up, not a long distance most days, but seemingly insurmountable today. At least there was a reward awaiting her at the top. Slid under the door lay a piece of paper covered in Ron's untidy scribble. There was a map sketched on the back, which showed a route from her apartment to a nearby park.  
  
Hermione - Meet me here.  
  
-Ron  
  
Hermione grinned like an idiot. Ron knew she had a bad day today; he could hardly help knowing, sharing the same office and all. He had turned into a damned romantic when she wasn't looking.   
  
She dropped her satchel on the couch and headed back out the door. It wasn't till she was halfway down the street that she realized her wand was still in her satchel. She debated going back for it and decided against it; making a mental note to get in the habit of carrying her wand around all the time again.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Malfoy watched Granger enter the park from inside a shop across the street. He snorted in disgust. The damned woman was practically floating. Malfoy hated romantics of all shapes and forms, especially those who were blatantly smitten.   
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Hermione scanned the park without seeing a single red-head. Well, one, but the small child playing in the sand wasn't exactly who she was looking for. She settled back into a shady park bench, feeling about ten times lighter than she had on the train.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Malfoy took his time crossing the street and strolling across the park. She noticed him about halfway across the field. Her shoulders tensed as she recognized him. Malfoy appeared not to notice this and continued on his nonchalant way.  
  
"Hermione Granger, what a surprise to see you alive." He said slyly. A park goer would have thought them casual acquaintances chatting on the park bench.  
  
"Draco Malfoy, what a surprise to see you out of prison."   
  
"I'm afraid I don't have any witty banter prepared, so I'll skip straight to the point. You and I have business to discuss." Malfoy casually brushed his sleeve so that she could see he had his wand.  
  
"You're risking arrest just to crow over an old school vendetta? That's a bit petty, even for you."  
  
Malfoy's tensed in anger. "Why don't we go elsewhere to talk? This is private business."   
  
"I am quite comfortable right here." Hermione's mind raced quickly. She didn't dare hope that Ron would appear in the nick of time. Now that she thought about it, it was entirely possible for the note to have been the bait. Malfoy wouldn't care much about working magic in front of the muggles, nor would he be afraid to hurt someone. Hermione felt herself backing into a corner.  
  
"Lord Voldemort was so effective at removing such stubbornness."  
  
"You couldn't work the Imperius Curse if you were under it yourself."  
  
Hermione could have sworn she heard teeth grinding. "It would be such a shame if a gas main explosion were to occur over by that swing set. Such things have happened before."  
  
Hermione's blood ran cold. Unlike his father, Draco hadn't killed anyone, but just because he hadn't didn't mean he wouldn't. She couldn't take the chance.  
  
"The Leaky Cauldron isn't far from here." She said finally.   
  
"It is a lovely day for a walk." Malfoy was all slimy smiles again. "Goyle." The boulder masquerading as a man (and not doing a very good job) had been lurking around during the entire conversation. He tried to act inconspicuous and failed at that as well.   
  
Hermione hoped that at any second she would be struck by a brilliant plan, but unfortunately, she didn't have very many seconds for that to happen. The beginnings of a good idea were forming when they turned a corner and Malfoy whispered, "Stupify!"   
  
And then only darkness.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	23. Oh No

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Chapter Twenty Two  
  
Oh, No…  
  
"Hermione! C'mon 'Mione, I know you're in there." Ron pounded on the door again. "Don't tell me you're mad at me too."  
  
Ron took out his wand, and feeling rather foolish, checked the halls for muggles.   
  
"Alohomora!" The door swung open without a creak. Ron was sure he'd remember that charm to the day he died.   
  
" 'Mione? Please don't hex me." Ron pushed the door open slowly. The apartment was silent. Ron wondered if he'd gotten here before her; then he got a good look at the interior.  
  
"Oh shit."  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
"It's gotta be Malfoy." Harry said, surveying the apartment. The place was trashed.  
  
"Huh?" Ron set a chair right side up. He was doing the thousand yard stare thing again.  
  
"Malfoy. This has his name written all over it."  
  
"Revenge for his father?"  
  
"Nah, Malfoy hates his father just like the rest of us." The question kicked Ron's brain back into reality. "Maybe… maybe this is because of the American thing."  
  
"Makes sense. Maybe he knows you're on his tail for the bank thing."   
  
"Probably not. The smart thing would be to lay low for a while. Malfoy may be evil, slimy, bigoted, and ugly, but he's not stupid." Ron tossed a cushion back onto the sofa.  
  
Harry held up the ripped and slashed remains of a satchel. "I wonder if they were actually looking for anything or just trying to cause as much damage as possible."   
  
"I don't think anything's missing. I can't tell. Maybe that was the point." Ron replied.  
  
The strap of the satchel Harry was holding ripped, and the bag hit the floor, allowing the wand to roll across the hardwood floor.  
  
Ron looked up from trying to upright the television. It was the only undamaged thing in the room, probably because Crabbe/Goyle had failed Muggle Studies just like everything else, and had no idea what a telly was.  
  
"Her wand. Unbelievable. D'you think he left on purpose?"  
  
"There's no way Malfoy could know about that." Harry repeated it in his head. Still, it gave him the shivers. They had been though this one time too many already.  
  
"Right." Ron said firmly. He picked up the wand. A piece of paper crackled under his feet and he picked that up as well. He scanned the note, and froze. Harry grabbed the paper and read the note.  
  
"I assume you didn't write this." Harry said, forcing his voice to work properly.  
  
"Nope." Ron had turned deathly pale. "He must have gotten a Forger's Quill from Knockturn Alley."   
  
"Hey man, snap out of it." Ron did, with a start. He was still having trouble comprehending all of this, but his mind still demanded action, any action.  
  
"The first thing he would do would be to leave the country. We should notify all the foreign Ministries of Magic; they always seem to have better luck catching him than we do." Ron hesitated. "We need to keep this secret. Someone within the Ministry tipped off Malfoy last time. Only someone with access to Ministry records would know where 'Mione lives."  
  
"The Ministry can't know." Harry agreed. "We've been doing this sort of thing on our own for ten years, can't see why that should change now."  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	24. Not Again

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Chapter Twenty Three  
  
…Not Again  
  
Hermione awoke without a pounding headache. This seemed strange to her for some reason. Everything was fuzzy. She tried to move her arms, but they refused to respond. As she drifted back toward consciousness, she seized on one of the thoughts that floated through her head.  
  
Malfoy had kidnapped her.  
  
That pissed her off. At about this point she realized that the reason she couldn't move her arms was because they were tied behind her back. Bastard.  
  
Hermione retained just enough presence of mind not to move. It didn't sound as if there was anyone else where she was, but there was no need to take chances. Well, at least that explained the lack of a headache. One of the (relatively) good things about being knocked out by a Stunning Spell was the lack of a hangover.  
  
Once coherent enough to put this all together, Hermione began to take stock of her surroundings. The smell of diesel fuel and concrete hung in the air, heavy and hot. The air seemed unseasonably warm. She seemed to be lying on a rough mat. She couldn't hear much over the constant dull drone of engines, occasionally broken by a roar of rushing air. She was at an airport, and probably no longer in England. Add it all up, and Hermione knew she was in Palmero, Sicily's airport. Malfoy was probably taking her to whatever piece of property he had out here.  
  
Wonderful. Now that she knew all this, she was still bound and gagged and locked in a trunk. The heavens opened and light poured in from above. Goyle dropped a soft bag on her head. She tried to glare at him, but was unsuccessful because her eyes were still adjusting to the bright Mediterranean sun.  
  
"She's awake sir."  
  
"So?" The trunk closed again. Hermione cursed Malfoy softy, thoroughly and in every language she knew. She was just trying to remember the correct conjugation for a traditional Goblin curse when her anger vaporized, leaving her highly amused at her pedanticness.   
  
The car pulled away with a lurch. They must have gone directly onto a highway, because they were coasting along at a good clip without stopping. Hermione reviewed her mental map of the south of Italy. It was a bit fuzzy, seeing as how she hadn't taken geography since muggle school.   
  
The money stolen from a London bank had eventually been traced to a muggle real estate company in Italy. They still didn't know exactly which piece of Italian seacoast had been purchased because the realtor was challenging their legal authority to access those documents. The entire investigation was bogged down in legal red tape, both magical and muggle. Still there were only a limited number of villas that Malfoy could have bought. Hermione sincerely hoped it wasn't the one across the island in Messina.  
  
Hermione shifted around the trunk, trying to find a reasonably comfortable spot. She didn't have much success mainly because of the bag which occupied about a quarter of the boot. Hermione stared at the darkness. If it weren't for the noise of traffic or the whirr of the engine, she might have been floating in the darkness.   
  
Hermione blinked once, twice, and stared. What she had thought was just the sun's afterimage in her dazzled eyes, was nothing of the sort. Hermione had read the stories of muggle children accidentally getting trapped in the car trunk and of the release on the inside that many cars were now being equipped with. Neither Malfoy nor Goyle could have known what the purpose of this glow-in-the-dark piece of plastic was.   
  
In retrospect, it was one of the stupidest things she had ever done. Without considering that she was in a sedan travelling 60 mph down a highway, Hermione wriggled around and grasped the release. It seemed like the car was going slower than it had before. If she were going to escape, now would be an excellent time.  
  
*wa-chunk!* The trunk opened a crack. Hermione struggled up. It was very awkward trying to move a 2 x 5 ft. space while your hands are tied behind your back, but Hermione managed to get into a kneeling position. The car was definitely slowing down, but Hermione was busy trying to work out how to jump without seriously injuring herself.  
  
Goyle hit the speed bump far faster than he should have. Hermione overbalanced and fell back into the boot, which snapped shut behind her. Hermione breathed out slowly to steady herself, unable to decide whether to be upset at this opportunity to escape denied, or be relieved at being saved from the unpleasant experience of jumping out of a moving vehicle.  
  
The faintly glowing handle of the release dangled enticingly in front of her. If she could just somehow jump without breaking something…   
  
Her plans, however, were ruined by their abrupt arrival at Malfoy's Italian estate. The trunk opened again, pouring sunshine into Hermione's eyes. Unfamiliar bird song floated through the vineyards. Malfoy grinned down at her.  
  
"Welcome to Marsala."  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	25. Globetrotting

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Chapter Twenty Four  
  
Globetrotting  
  
Ron shuffled through the files on his desk nervously. Hermione kept her office neat and tidy with all the files properly indexed and cross-referenced. He never thought that he would have to sneak into his own office, and the fact that he'd had to pissed him off. He knew the report on Malfoy's activities was here somewhere.  
  
Harry's wand light went out abruptly. Ron froze. Footsteps echoed down the hall and paused. A door opened and shut. Ron let out a breath of relief. Someone else was working late too.   
  
Harry's wand went back on. Ron looked down to see the proper file in his hand. He flipped it open and began reading. The first page said Malfoy's name had been on the passenger manifest on a flight from Chicago the day after his escape from the Americans. The next page was a list of properties owned by the Malfoy family. After the arrest of Malfoy Sr., Narcissa had moved the rest of the family to the mansion in Spain. They also had houses/mansions/ski lodges in Switzerland, Germany, Luxembourg and Monaco.   
  
Ron decided that Malfoy wouldn't think that the Ministry was tracking down the villa in Italy, so that was where he would go. He and Hermione had been able to narrow it down to three likely choices. Problem was that they were all widely scattered across the island of Sicily. They could Apparate to all of these places, but it would still take some time.  
  
"Where do we start?" Harry asked.  
  
"I dunno."  
  
"Which one is the biggest?"  
  
  
  
"Marsala."  
  
"Sounds like a good place to start."   
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Hermione considered testing the bars on the window again and decided against it. After all, they couldn't have come loose during the last ten minutes. Or could they?  
  
Hermione had thoroughly examined every inch of the small cell. The villa had been a resort hotel which had gone bankrupt long ago. All the furniture had been carted away long ago for more successful hotels. Only a single long mirror had been left behind, and only because it was set into the wall. The gilded frame in the empty room was very depressing. The magnificent ocean view, complete with the sun setting into the ocean, was marred by the ornamental metal bars.   
  
She walked around the room one more time, looked in the bathroom, glanced in the mirror, and wished that she had her wand. She'd already tried Disapperating, but it didn't work. The villa had an anti-Apperating spell similar to Hogwarts'.   
  
Hermione kicked a piece of debris into the corner. Malfoy couldn't have thought of everything; and it annoyed Hermione that she couldn't find the hole in his plan. She shook the bars experimentally, but of course they didn't give way. The intertwining metal was installed by the original owners to keep thieves out. Hermione thought the irony would be amusing, if she wasn't trapped.  
  
Hermione gazed out of the window, unable to think of a feasible plan. The hotel was perched on a long gentle slope to the sea. An abandoned vineyard covered most of the surrounding countryside. An ornamental shrubbery edged the villa's walls. A pygmy mudhatch perched itself on the windowsill and trilled cheerfully. It was all very tranquil and pastoral.   
  
The door swung open, almost silent. Hermione glanced up to see Malfoy, hovering triumphantly in the doorway, then turned back to the window.  
  
"Pleasure to see you too, Mudblood." Hermione felt a muscle in her arm twitch.  
  
"Please, Malfoy. Don't tell me you've come to tell me your plans for world domination like every other B-movie villain in the world." No reply. "No don't tell me. You're going to use me to trade for one of your friends in Azkaban. Oh, no, even better. You're going to set yourself up as the new leader of the Death Eaters."  
  
The window wasn't much of a reflective surface, but Hermione was still able to follow Malfoy's movements through the room. When he was about a foot away she turned to look him in the eye.  
  
"No wait, I've got it now." She drawled slowly. "You're going to try and raise Voldemort from the dead." A muscle in his cheek twitched.  
  
"You had everyone fooled, Granger." Malfoy laughed hollowly. "You really are an idiot. Even Goyle wouldn't be that stupid. Why on earth would I want to resurrect the Death Eaters?"   
  
"Oh, then please tell me your brilliant plan for world domination."  
  
"Money."  
  
"Money?" Hermione pretended to be shocked.  
  
"Yes, money. The Death Eaters burned and pillaged their way across England, and what did it get them? A lifetime in Azkaban!"  
  
"I work in the Ministry, Malfoy. I don't have much in the way of ransom money."  
  
"Pity. You won't need it anyway, that's not how you fit into the Grand Plan Miss Mudblood." Malfoy chuckled ominously.   
  
"Oh? And just how do I fit into this Grand Plan of yours?" Hermione's stomach felt like ice, but she kept up a veneer of contemptuous calm.  
  
"Live bait."  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	26. A Better Mousetrap

THE ORDER OF THE PHEONIX!!!! At long last our prayers have been answered. Chapter Twenty Nine is my absolute favourite. I dedicate this chapter to that wonderful goddess who has given us a magical world to play in, J.K. Rowling.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Chapter Twenty Five  
  
A Better Mousetrap  
  
Ron examined the former hotel from the edge of the vineyard. It wasn't hard to guess where 'Mione was, there were only two lights on in the entire house.   
  
"He really doesn't think much of us does he?" Harry asked. Ron grunted something in reply. It couldn't have been a more obvious trap if Malfoy had put up a sign. It was the classic Italian villa, with white adobe walls and a red tiled roof. The villa had been easy to sneak up to, using the grape vines as cover, but now Ron had discovered the flaw in their plan. How to get from the vineyard up to the house without being seen.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Hermione sat in the windowsill and gazed out at the darkness. She had no doubt that Ron would find her. It was just a matter of time. But still she worried. He was walking into a trap.  
  
There had to be someway to warn Ron and Harry or, better yet, escape. But without her wand, none of her spells would work. There were no convenient air ducts to crawl through, nor a miraculous loose bar in the window. There was nothing in the room that could be used as a weapon. In fact, there was nothing in the room at all. Even some of the fixtures in the bathroom had been taken off for use in a better hotel.  
  
Hermione sat upright suddenly. That grapevine had moved. She went over to the light switch and flicked it off and on. She left it off and looked out again. Two shadows lurked at the edge of the vineyard.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
"She saw us." Ron said unnecessarily.   
  
"Now what?"  
  
"We can't Apparate in, so…" Ron shrugged. "We do it Fred and George's way."  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Hermione watched in disbelief as the two shadows began to creep across the lawn. She held her breath, expecting a spell to split the darkness at any moment. But Ron and Harry made it to her window without incident. Hermione opened the inside window.  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"  
  
"Rescuing you, what does it look like?" Harry grinned.   
  
"You do know this is a trap right?"  
  
"Course we do."   
  
  
  
"Just checking." Harry stood lookout in the hedges as Ron began to fiddle with the bars. At first, Hermione couldn't tell what he was doing. Then the light glinted off a metal screwdriver and lock pick.  
  
"Where did you get that?"   
  
"Fred and George have a kit." Ron wrenched out one of the screws and began working on another. It was slow work, but using magic would probably trigger a trap.   
  
Hermione was never quite sure what tipped her off, but all of a sudden she scrambled back from the window. Ron glanced up, only to be pulled back by Harry, who was looking the other way. The window and wall exploded in a shower of glass and drywall.  
  
"Stupify!" A red jet of light shot from Harry's wand into the darkness. He made a break for the vineyard, drawing Malfoy's fire away.   
  
"Ron? Ron!"  
  
"Here!" Ron shoved a large beam of wood off himself. "Are you alright?"  
  
"Yeah… look out!" Hermione pulled Ron with her as she dodged another jet of light Ron fired a return volley. They both scrambled into the ruined room; the outer wall had a perfect circle neatly punched in the centre.  
  
"Your wand, my lady. Just like old times." Hermione grinned, adrenaline pumping. Old times indeed.  
  
As a student, Goyle had been sub-par, and as a henchman he was utterly hopeless. Goyle walked right into the wreckage and never had time to see anything but a burst of red light.  
  
Ron and Hermione picked their way through the rubble and over Goyle's unconscious form to reach the open air. Multi-coloured lights flashed rapidly over the vineyard. Part of Hermione's mind absently recalled muggle stories of UFOs.  
  
"Which one is Harry?"   
  
"We could just fire Stunning Spells at both and sort them out later." Ron said cheekily.  
  
"Ron…"  
  
"Kidding, kidding."  
  
There was no need to do that, however, because the points from which the spells were emanating were slowly moving back toward the house. The poor mangled shrubbery had been blasted to pieces, but there was still enough to hide behind.  
  
Ron and Hermione crouched behind leaves, wands at the ready. Both Harry and Malfoy broke cover at the same time. Harry must have been expecting something of the sort, because he dove for the ground to ensure any stray spells would go over his head. Two red bolts struck Malfoy square on and he went flying back into the vines.  
  
"Take your time about it why don't you." Harry stood and brushed off the dirt, trying to sound sour.   
  
"We would have had an easier time of it if you hadn't gone flying off." Ron shot back.  
  
"Pfft. If you two weren't so busy…" Harry was interrupted by Hermione giving him a huge hug and planting a kiss on his cheek. Ron got a kiss on the lips.  
  
"Yes, well." Harry flushed. "This is what I'm talking about."   
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	27. Kismet

Chapter Twenty Six  
  
Kismet  
  
"The wizarding world was shocked today by the news that the notorious criminal Draco Malfoy was captured with his accomplice Goyle on the Italian isle of Sicily two days ago. As our listeners may remember, Malfoy made headlines several months ago with his daring and destructive escape from America's wizard prison.   
  
"According to Ministry sources, Malfoy had been assisting a group of muggles in bank robberies across the south of England. Ministry Aurors Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger made the arrest in Italy, but were unavailable for comment. However, an anonymous informant within the Ministry has told the WWN that the struggle to subdue Malfoy resulted in injuries to all parties and the destruction of an Italian villa. Malfoy and Goyle are currently awaiting trial.  
  
"In a related story, the Ministry launched an internal investigation this week. Confidential sources claim that this is to root out the last of the double agents from You-Know-Who. Official Ministry spokeswizards would neither confirm nor deny this.  
  
"Moving on to sports news, England passed the qualifying rounds for the Quidditch World Cup…"   
  
Hermione tapped the box with her wand, and the reporter's voice faded out. Crookshanks curled happily around her ankles and went back to his favourite perch on the television. The London apartment she and Ron shared was an eclectic mix of magic and muggle devices. Hermione's own flat was a total loss (as was her security deposit) so Hermione told Ron she was moving everything that was left to his apartment.  
  
"Hey!" Harry protested indifferently.   
  
"Oh we already know what happened." Hermione returned. Harry muttered something inaudible over the roar of the home warming/Quidditch World Cup party. Fred and George and the rest of the gang from Hogwarts had been plotting a welcome back party for quite some time and were delighted for the excuse to stay up till dawn.  
  
"So, is this happily ever after?" Ron asked.  
  
"I hope not." Hermione said primly.  
  
"Why not?"   
  
"Because happily ever after implies stasis, monotony. Who wants that?"   
  
"Who indeed?" Ron agreed and planted a kiss on her cheek. Fred catcalled from across the room. Harry laughed along with 'Mione as Ron flushed and yelled at his brother. Maybe it wasn't happily ever after, but for right now at least, all was right with the world.  
  
The End…  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


	28. Author's Note

This idea came to me in a dream. Honest! It was just this scene that somehow crawled into my brain and screamed until I typed it up. Then, being not content, it proceeded to 250+ KB of my hard drive in its insatiable lust for etherspace.  
  
Anyway. The original title "One Night" was slapped on because I was just dying to post this and couldn't think of anything better. This is my largest project on fanfic.net to date, and I am just tickled to death with all the people who read and reviewed. I don't have any HP fics looming on the horizon, but please head over to the Sherlock Holmes and Mercedes Lackey sections to see some of my other works.   
  
The preceding story is dedicated to my dearest Mother and Father, who so kindly tolerate my incessant typing at all hours of the night, and abide my grumpy self in the morning.   
  
And to that great goddess JK Rowling, may her pen never run out of ink.  
  
Peace.  
  
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•. 


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